The Importance of Family
by TheWhoLockedSupernaturalist
Summary: Young Sherlock (6 years old) experiences family in a new way at a family reunion. Here he turns into the shielded "freak" that he is later. Can John stay friends with Sherlock? Rated K .
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock cuddled his teddy bear as he lay in bed, thinking about tomorrow. The first time he would meet all of his relatives. What had Mycroft called it? A…family reunion? Yes, that was right. Mycroft, eighteen, knew all about everything, whereas Sherlock knew almost nothing. At age six, Sherlock was actually very smart. He had skipped a grade in school and was now a first grader. His only friend was John Hamish Watson, who didn't care that Sherlock was smarter than he was. Mycroft was barely a brother. He was, however, better than Sherlock's parents, Emma and Dave. Mycroft had come home especially to take care of Sherlock. He knew how bad his parents could be. They mostly ignored Sherlock. But who cared? At least he had a family.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open at 7 a.m. with the beep of his alarm. He jumped out of bed and changed into a blue t-shirt with a pirate on it, and jeans, discarding his pajamas on the floor. He rushed down the hall to wake Mycroft, who preferred sleeping in.

"Mycroft, Mycroft! Wake up!" Sherlock jumped on Mycroft's bed. "Unh. Whatimesit?" Mycroft asked. "It's Saturday! The family thing is today! Get up!" Sherlock pushed Mycroft for emphasis. "Mycroft, please? I'm hungry." Sherlock changed his voice to a whiny one, which he knew would annoy Mycroft. "Surely you must have learned how to cook something at college. I'm _hungry_."

Mycroft sat up and looked at Sherlock. "Can't you do something other than whine? You're giving me a headache." Sherlock grinned. "At least you have a reason to get up now."

A knock on the door interrupted Sherlock. Emma stood there, all ready to go. "Mycroft, get up and make your brother some breakfast. We leave in twenty minutes." She turned on her heel and walked out the door. Mycroft sighed. "All right, go to the kitchen. I'll be there in two minutes."

Sherlock slid down the hallway in his socks, his curly hair bouncing as he turned a corner. He laughed, blissfully unaware of the pains family could bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks for all the views! Sorry it took two days to upload this, I was busy. Oh and since I forgot this last time:**

**Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Sherlock.**

Mycroft came into the small tiled kitchen two minutes later, exactly. He was never late, at least not that Sherlock knew. Sherlock was bouncing on the chair, too excited to sit still. Mycroft looked at Sherlock and shook his head. 6 year olds had a lot of energy. "Alright, what do you want for breakfast? We have cereal and…" Mycroft paused as he looked in the cabinets. "…cereal. What kind do you want, Cheerios or Raisin Bran?" Sherlock made a face. "Ew, who likes Raisin Bran? I want Cheerios!" Mycroft smiled to himself. At least his brother could still be 6. "OK then. Here you go." Sherlock gulped down his juice and started on his Cheerios. "Wait," He paused, milk dribbling down his chin. "What are you going to eat?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Me? Nothing. I'm on a diet." Now it was Sherlock's turn to raise his eyebrows. Mycroft didn't need to go on a diet. Not like their next-door neighbor, Phil. He was large.

"Mycroft, ten minutes! Make sure your brother brushes his teeth and combs his hair!" Emma yelled from the living room. Sherlock finished his cereal, then tipped the bowl back and drank the milk. He was about to wipe his mouth on his shirt when Mycroft whispered, "Don't do that. You'll have to change out of the shirt then, and isn't that your only pirate shirt?" Sherlock frowned. He had more pirate shirts, right?

"Come on, let's get you ready." This time Mycroft spoke normally. "To the bathroom."

Ten minutes later, Mycroft finished tying Sherlock's shoes. They had pirates on them, of course. "OK, time to go. Remember, don't say anything until you're introduced. They strongly believe that children should not be seen or heard." Sherlock's face looked puzzled. "Then why even go at all?" Mycroft smiled. "Sometimes, you have to do things that don't make sense. Now let's go, otherwise we'll be left behind, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" As soon as Sherlock stood up and looked away, Mycroft's smile disappeared. How would his extended family react to a six year old that was only in first grade? Most of the cousins Sherlock's age were in at least third grade. He himself had been a fourth grader at the age of six. Mycroft shook his head and walked out of the house, closing the locked door behind him.

….

"Are we there yet? I'm boreed." Sherlock squirmed in his seat. It had been an hour already! Where were they going?

"No, we're not there yet. About ten more minutes. Here, I brought a snack for you." Mycroft held out a granola bar. Sherlock accepted it and chewed on it, looking out the window. "Look, Mycroft! Horses! Can we stop and ride them?" Sherlock begged Mycroft with his eyes. "John gets to ride horses. He owns horses." Now Sherlock was just pouty.

Mycroft sighed. "We'll be there soon. Do you see that huge building up ahead?" Sherlock nodded. "That's where it is. That's the family mansion." Sherlock looked harder. Sure enough, above the door you could barely see "Holmes" and below that "Scientia sit potentia." Mycroft saw Sherlock's confused face. "That means knowledge is power."

"We Holmes' take pride in our intelligence. You should too." For the first time that day, Emma spoke directly to Sherlock. As she was talking, Dave pulled into the driveway, where a butler was waiting to take the car. Up close, the mansion was stunning. There were pillars in front of the door, and a curved, ivy-wrapped wall to the right. **(AN: To see the mansion, look below.)** Sherlock's mouth dropped open. "People used to live here?" Mycroft smiled. "Not used to, do. Most of our relatives live here together." By here, Mycroft meant the neighborhood. There were many large houses, but this was by far the largest. "Now come on, we need to get out of the car." Sherlock hopped out of the black Impala and took Mycroft's offered hand. Together, they walked into the mansion as the butler drove their car away.

**Thanks for reading! Please review! And sorry about the Impala reference, I couldn't resist. :) Here's the mansion I was basing it off of: files/aLZ2AsK7NSXaWauj7tO*5KveWT5CAhDWf2*f4DVflALP MPgC9YvuurHff5i9sezNBgkhY5pPLYUQD*IMV1ZPWm3OVBgvPz J* Imagine that but bigger.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry about the delay in updating. Here's to make up for it. Disclaimer: I am not Bill Gates who could buy Sherlock, so no, I don't own it.**

**You guy should check out Ianto'sCoffeeMinion. She is a great author, and her Sherlock fics are mostly about Johnlock. **

Sherlock gasped as they stepped inside. The room was so large that his whole house could fit in it! And his house was not small. Mycroft looked at Sherlock in amusement. He remembered his first time here. It had seemed like a whole world, all in itself. The hallways filled with old art. The rooms as big as whole floors of a house. After his first time here, when he was four, Mycroft had gone over to a "friend's" house. Needless to say, that house had paled in comparison, and Mycroft told the kid's parents so. The "play date" had been over within half an hour.

Sherlock, however, thought that he preferred simpler houses. This looked fun to explore as a guest, but how could you live here? "It must take a whole army of people to clean this house," Sherlock thought aloud. "And an army of people who live here just to fill up all this empty space!" Mycroft looked at him in confusion. "What?" Sherlock looked down. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

"Mycroft! Sherlock! Come on. We can't be waiting for you all the time!"" Emma was impatient. "We need to hurry. They're waiting for us!" She started off down the hall, with Dave following close behind. Mycroft sighed and pulled his hand out of Sherlock's grip, who looked at him in confusion. "You don't want them thinking that you're weak. Trust me, they can pick you to pieces for any reason they choose."

**A/N: This chapter is super short. Sorry :( I'll probably upload another today to make up for it. I don't want to be one of those authors that begs for reviews, but it would be nice.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry about the slow updates. I've been in the mountains without my computer and with no internet access, so this was typed on my tablet. I'll post several today, definitely. Disclaimer: I do not throw characters off buildings, so obviously I can't be Steven Moffat, and therefore don't own Sherlock. **

"Come on, Sherlock. Keep your head high and make yourself seem as smart as possible." Mycroft sighed. Unfortunately, Sherlock would have to face this on his own. Hopefully they would tolerate him, but that might be too much to ask. They certainly wouldn't like him. They didn't like any of the children. Mycroft pushed Sherlock in front of him. It had to seem like Sherlock was independent and a true Holmes. Emma and Dave had already gone in, and were apparently talking to Aunt Panicia. She was tall and thin, but very imposing. She lived in the Holmes Manor, and cast a monetary shadow on just about every part of the family. For example, the Germany Holmes had accepted a loan from her only last year, as they were quite poor, and were still paying it off, a huge shocker for this family. Usually if one of them got a loan, it was almost always from Panicia, and was paid off in full within the month. So, unsurprisingly, the German Holmes were not there, and if they were, they were working the money off somehow.

(Now switching to Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock walked in exactly as Mycroft had told him to, with a regal air that could shame most people into submission. As planned, he first went to "Aunt" Panicia, to introduce himself, with Mycroft's advice echoing in his ears. "You'll need to tell her your name. Don't call her ma'am, it will make you seem weak. Say only your name, then you can walk off and join the other boys." Sherlock strode up to Panicia, and stated his name. "Sherlock Holmes." Then he went and joined the boys, just as Mycroft entered the room. For some reason, Mycroft was the Aunt's favorite. In fact, as he walked past his mother and the Aunt, the latter told Emma quite loudly that "that one will be the government someday, just you wait. As for the other one, well, he won't amount to much." Sherlock almost turned around, but managed to keep his temper in check. However, the next moment was the moment his whole life would change.

"Yes, I quite agree. He is only in first grade, he can barely deduce, and he has too many emotions." Sherlock turned as his father's words carried across the room, which was suddenly silent. Mycroft gave a fleeting glance in Sherlock's direction, and was surprised to see that his six year old brother was actually calm. Sherlock's thoughts jumbled together, finally resting on one thing. Betrayal. Utter betrayal by one of the four people he trusted. How could his father do such a thing?

**A/N: Sorry it's short, but I wanted to post something because I haven't in forever. I will try to post another tonight, definitely more tomorrow. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you to my faithful reviewers Ianto'sCoffeeMinion and DetectiveInspectorD. I suppose it's finally time I add that I am American, and so I will try my best to make it real, but if it isn't, then I'm sorry. Disclaimer: I could jump off the roof of St. Bart's, but I would still not own Sherlock.**

Sherlock looked at Mycroft, who was standing still. How could he stand by while his brother was practically disowned? Little did Sherlock know, Mycroft was actually planning to say something. But Sherlock acted too fast. He nodded to the Aunt and strode out the room, only seconds after the incident. Once he was out the door, he managed to wait until it closed before he ran to a corner and cried. Of all the horrible things. Why did it have to be his father? Why not some relative he didn't even know? Besides, what was the whole "only in first grade" thing about? Most 6 years olds were in kindergarten! Then he realized. He could never be normal inside his own family. They were too smart for him. The boys his age were probably second and third graders. Having had the cold hard truth revealed, Sherlock decided something. He would make his father proud. He would become a fourth grader. He would learn to deduce things that no one else could even dream of, let alone use logic to figure out. He would show no emotion. Slowly, Sherlock built a wall around his emotions, his happiness, his innocence. He would basically become a Vulcan, like his second-favorite character, Spock.

Meanwhile, as Sherlock was discovering who he was about to be, Mycroft also realized something. Sherlock would no longer need a big brother. He would become independent, which meant Mycroft would need to move out. With no point in him staying at home, he could leave, and accept the assistant position in the government. He could finally become what he had always wanted to be, rich and powerful.

After three hours, Sherlock was done with the emotional wall. He decided that to be the best and the smartest, he would need to remember everything he learned. Mycroft had said something about a mind place once. Perhaps Sherlock could have a mind _palace_. The first thing he put in it was the feeling of betrayal. He put it at the entrance to his palace, so he would always remember what happened when you trusted someone. 'Basically,' he thought to himself, 'run. Run from all relationships so you won't be hurt. Don't trust anyone. All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.'

**A/N: Ok, I lied. This is the only one today. And it's rather short. I'm not good at making them long. Sorry. Doctor Who reference anyone? It's easy, I promise. And the end quote. I really love that one. Thanks for reading, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks so much guys! This story had 97 views on Tuesday alone! And 561 total! I can't believe so many people are reading it! You guys are from 21 countries! Disclaimer: I'm so happy I can't write one! Imagine I wrote something funny about not owning Sherlock.**

* * *

Sherlock knew that he couldn't be seen as the cowardly stupid one, so he came up with one choice; go back in to the reunion and face his fath- no. He was Dave now. Not "Dad", "Daddy", or even "Sir". Just Dave. Sherlock knew he had to go face Dave. Had to prove him wrong. Had to prove to everyone that he was not stupid; he was just different. So what if he was in first grade? At least he had friends. Well, more like two friends and a few acquaintances. Like Anderson. Sherlock knew that he didn't like people who were different. Same with Sally, though she was a little more accepting, probably because she could be one of the most brilliant people in school, but she chose to hang out with Anderson. Both of those two were acquaintances. His other friend was Greg, who was a fifth grader and was one of two people who could keep up with Sherlock and his eccentricities. But anyways, back to the point. Sherlock could tell that none of the boys in that room had any friends. They all could tell that he had friends. Sherlock Holmes and his brilliant mind were liked by a few people in this world. Then Sherlock had a thought; what if he just ignored everyone? He could prove to the, the next time he came to one of these meaningless events that he was better. 'At what?' they would say. 'How are you different from the rest of us?' Sherlock could envision his reply. He would make them think he was overconfident by telling them that he was better at everything. He would prove that he could both care about a choice few and he the greatest Holmes to ever walk the Earth.

* * *

**A/N: That was fun to write. Don't worry, a new chapter will be up by tomorrow. I'm typing it right now. Please excuse all the references to other fandoms/shows, I can't help it. Sorry for the inconsistencies with which I am uploading. (I finally learned how to make lines!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here, have a longer chapter to make up for the wait. (I'm not good at making them long, so sorry of it isn't.) Disclaimer: I am not British, therefore I can't own Sherlock. I know. Sad, isn't it?**

Mycroft waited inside the room for the reunion to end. Finally, after 3 and a half hours, he was allowed to leave. He grabbed a sandwich as he walked out the door, knowing that Sherlock would probably be hungry when he was finally found. Mycroft wandered the hallways for about 15 minutes before he caught glimpse of curls around the corner. "Sherlock?" he wanted to let Sherlock know he was there first, before he tried to talk to him. Who knew how Sherlock would react?

Sherlock did. He heard his brother call out, and his first thought was, 'he found me.' Sherlock didn't know why he thought this, he just knew that he had. His brother's voice was unsteady, unsure of what he was going to find. It sounded like his brother was trying to apologize with one word. "Sherlock?" he called again. "I-I brought food. I thought you might be hungry after 3 hours." Sherlock sighed. "It was actually 3 hours and 47 minutes precisely." He felt the need to correct his brother. Mycroft startled. His brother sounded so much older than 6, as if in the past few hours he had skipped his childhood. "And how would you know? You don't have a watch."

Sherlock sighed again. "No, but I do have a clock in my mind palace." Oops. He hadn't been going to tell Mycroft about that. The latter party thought back to a conversation he'd had on the phone with one of his friends. He had mentioned a mind place for storing memories, but Sherlock hadn't overheard that, had he? "A mind palace? What's in it?" Mycroft came around the corner as he spoke. His brother, already 4 feet tall, seemed taller somehow. Mycroft chuckled to himself. His brother had a superiority complex. How fitting. He was, after all, a Holmes at heart, and the family saw itself as superior to all others in both intellectual prowess and power-wise.

For the third time in the same five minutes, Sherlock caught himself sighing. ''That is none of your business." Mycroft was not to know that Sherlock had a whole wing of his palace for family, and it did not contain the nicest thoughts in the world about said family. "What I keep in my mind is mine and mine alone." Mycroft looked up, a look upon his face that Sherlock would rarely see again; sadness. "Why so sad, brother? Surely you can't just now be feeling remorse for your actions earlier. It's far too late for that. I've grown up, no thanks to you. I shall no longer need you to help me. I am my own person; I am independent." His speech over, Sherlock turned on his heel and left, not knowing, or if he did know, not caring that that was the last time he would see his brother for years, as Mycroft would be busy moving up in the world, and Sherlock himself would be busy experimenting, in many ways.

**A/N: I apologize for the long wait, I have decided that from now on I will update when I can and hopefully not lose too many readers. Please review, the little box below is begging for your attention.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Guys, I'm seriously depressed by the lack of reviews. Please, someone new review? And my regulars, keep reviewing! I'm so sorry for the wait! Anyways, good news! We meet John next chapter! So here we go... Disclaimer: You all know the drill. I don't own Sherlock. It is very sad... but you don't want me to blab on and on, you want a new chapter!**

The reunion continued, but with one difference; Mycroft had left early, and Sherlock was busy picking locks in the mansion elsewhere, or at least trying to. Sherlock's thought was that it could be a useful skill one day, so he might as well develop it. Besides, it kept his mind off of recent events, which were stored neatly in a room labeled "Dave". Sherlock had decided that every person in his family should have their own room, that way he wouldn't get them confused later when he accessed them again. For instance, his mother, Emma, had her own special room that was rather grand, very old-fashioned and plush. Mycroft, on the other hand, had a dusty room which was well furnished but ragged. And Dave, well. Dave had a room about normal, just a regular room which could belong in a regular house, with a regular owner who had a regular life. Which, in reality, was nothing like Dave's life at all. He was a bigwig of Tesco, the store. He made lots of money. Emma, or Mother, as Sherlock was starting to think of her, was a secretary to one of the big people of the Royal Bank of Scotland. She also made a lot of money. As a result, Sherlock was attending a rather expensive primary school, the first day of which was in just a week.

**A/N: Sorry, I know it's super short, but I wanted to update before my soccer practice (football, I know, but I'm American!) My British-ness is getting better, had you noticed? Thanks to librarianmum's Brit-picker's Guide to Writing Sherlock. Again, sorry for the wait. We meet John next chapter, though! I hope that makes up for it. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry I made you guys wait 2 whole days. I was busy, and yesterday I started a new story! If you want to read it you can find it on my page. It has nothing to do with this fic. Anyway, this chapter is skipping ahead one week to Sherlock's first day of his second year of school! We meet John! Go on, cheer, I know you want to. Thing about John... I decided to make him a fourth grader. Sorry if it's confusing. It fits the story better. Disclaimer: I might have to move this to my summary, it gets depressing knowing that I have no money.**

Sherlock woke up, and this time, instead of bouncing out of bed, he slowly got up and slowly got dressed into a polo shirt and jeans. Not the most normal look for a six year old, but then again, Sherlock wasn't normal, not even to his family, not yet. He would show them. He could be just as smart as the rest of his family.

* * *

The first day of school was a day where the boys took tests to determine their skill level. **(A/N: I know, not normal. But I wanted him to prove he was smart.)** Sherlock had crammed an impressive amount of knowledge into his mind palace in the short space of one week. As he walked into the school, he both saw and observed. Anderson was trying to hide the fact that his parents had inherited a lot of money which allowed him to continue attending the school. Sally was trying to hide that she had a rather large crush on her year-mate, Greg Lestrade. And Greg himself had traveled over the summer to an island, perhaps Hawaii? Greg waved at Sherlock even though there was a four-year age gap. Greg was on of the few people who could keep up with Sherlock, or at least he had been able to. Maybe that would change.

As Sherlock deduced summers, he also scanned for another friendly face, which he did not see. John Watson, Sherlock's other friend, had become so after protecting him from bullies that thought the smart six year would be fun to pick on. They had run away with black eyes and broken noses doled out by John. After that, no one dared to bully Sherlock, at least not when they knew John Watson was around.

Four bullies, all eight years old, looked around cautiously before stepping up to Sherlock. "Hey smarty-pants." one of them called. "Where's your friend? Did he finally leave because he couldn't stand you anymore? Or did he tell you he was going to meet you today?" Sherlock panicked for a second, but only on the inside. Greg usually would have said something by now if he'd noticed, and there was no way he couldn't have noticed. The whole yard was silent, holding it's breath. Sherlock glimpsed at Greg, who was sitting back, a smile on his face. Apparently Sherlock had lost one friend. He turned to face the bullies and saw why Greg was grinning, and smiled a little himself. "Hey, dork, we're talking to you! Don't smile! You have no right to smile! No one is gonna save you now!" The boy who seemed to be the ringleader smirked as one of his cronies talked for him.

A new voice entered. "Is that so? Boy, did I just waste my energy, sending your two henchman fleeing then, didn't I, Jim?" James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran turned to see their worst nightmare, John Watson, staring at them. Now it was John's turn to smirk. "Why don't you two run along now, those are good boys." Jim and Sebastian tucked tail and ran, not wanting to face John, whose father had served in the army. John knew how to punch so that it hurt the victim and not him. It was one of the first things he had learned from his dad.** (A/N: No, he didn't learn it from experience. Bad children. Shame on you for thinking that.)**

"Are you all right, Sherlock? They didn't touch you, did they?" Sherlock shook his head and almost hugged John, until he remembered that he wanted to be Spock. "Thank you, John." He said it crisply, afraid that if he said it any other way he would break down everything he'd built. Luckily John didn't catch it. He smiled. "Good."

**A/N: And...scene! Very good reading, people, now how bout you kick back, relax, and maybe review? You don't have to, I just think it would be nice. Anyway, thanks for reading! This story has 1,208 views total! Yay! I feel like I just passed a milestone! Oh wait...I did. Hang tight, the next chapter will be out shortly!**


	10. Author's Note

**Hey guys. I realize it has been about 2 weeks. I have tried to write the next chapter about 4 times. Unfortunately, I have writer's block at the moment. Do you have any suggestions? Please help me out and I'll write a new chapter. Anything, even if it's just a small chapter idea, will help.**

**~TheWhoLockedSupernaturalist**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: A huge thank you to Supernatural Doctor Sherlock. You got me past the writer's block, and I hope this chapter makes up for the huge wait. Disclaimer: I will probably never own Sherlock, or Doctor Who, or anything else.**

One day after school had begun, the Holmes family got terrible news. Well, most people would consider it terrible. Mycroft, Sherlock, and their mum barely reacted. Dave Holmes had been on the train coming back from London, and the train had a small explosion near the engine. Miraculously, only 7 people had been hospitalized, and only 3 were dead; the engineer, a police man named Tobias Gregson, and Dave Holmes, a big name in the Tesco stores.

Most families would be devastated. They would stay out of school for a few weeks, or at the very least a couple of days. Sherlock went to school the day it happened (it had happened at around 4 in the morning). Only a few people,like John and Greg, had heard about it. They tried to talk to Sherlock, tell him how sorry they were, but Sherlock ignored them. He felt happy-no, not happy. Elated. He was glad that Dave was out of his life. Ever since the reunion, Dave had criticized Sherlock at every turn, telling him that he wasn't good enough, that he couldn't ever be a "proper Holmes". He was too emotional, too focused on life rather than work. Sherlock was done with it. He felt slightly bad, but only because he could never show his father the progress he'd made. He didn't even regret that he never got to say goodbye.

Dave Holmes was buried on the 21st of September. His two sons wore suits and stood there, stoic. Emma, his wife, stood and showed almost no emotion on her face, save a single tear leaking down the left side of her face. A few people from the company showed up, but not many. The few that did gave their condolences to Sherlock, Mycroft, and their now-widowed mother.

Usually after the death of a close family member, neighbors do something nice, like give a casserole to the family left behind. Nobody showed up at the large house with "Holmes" on the mailbox. Only the maid gave them a gift, a small dish of lasagna.

Emma Holmes decided that she could not live in such a large house with just her and Sherlock. She didn't like wasting space, and two people where there used to be four was certainly a waste of space. So she packed up the house and looked for a new home.

By now Sherlock was eight years old. He had two twelve year old friends and a whole lot of enemies. People didn't like that he could tell them their whole life story. So rather than make friends with people, Sherlock made enemies. Of course, once his mother found a flat in London, that all changed.

**A/N: Please review, whether you liked it or not! I could always use a little criticism. Hopefully the next chapter will be up by Saturday (it's currently Tuesday morning here). Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here you go! New chapter! Please R&R! It's also unbetaed just like everything else, so if you see errors, either here or in earlier chapters, please let me know.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, and probably never could cause I'm broke! Yay!

"34C? We're going to a flat?!" Sherlock was incredulous. How could he be expected to move? He'd lived all of his (recently) nine years in this house. Now he was being forced to uproot and leave?

His mother sighed. "Yes, Sherlock, we're moving to a flat. It's pretty close to the London offices of the Bank. I'll be able to work, and you'll be able to go to school. I know you wanted to stay here, but I just can't." Sherlock looked up. Mother was expressing her emotions? Dave's death must have hit her hard. Normally she was a rock, unable to show even the slightest facial change. That would change. "That's another thing," Sherlock continued. "Where am I to go to school? I certainly can't go to a public school."

She sighed again. "You might hate me for this, but I promise it's for the best. I've signed you up to go to private school. No, don't look at me like that. It will let you go up as many grades as you need-or want!-to. It has a lab which is always available for the students to use." At this Sherlock relaxed. At least he could still experiment. "What?" he asked, having tuned Mother out. She smiled. "I said, they also require music classes." At this Sherlock frowned. He had never been particularly fond of music. "And before you ask, yes, you have to. I've already registered you to take all the classes at your level. And the instrument you will learn is violin. Here, I got you one." She held a case out to Sherlock, who, though he didn't like music, accepted it, being careful not to drop the case. Inside was a gorgeous full-size violin, the strings perfectly in tune and the wood polished till it shined. At first Sherlock was confused. He wasn't big enough for a full-size yet, even if he was 4 feet 9 inches tall. (**Yes, he's a tall little bugger.**) Then he understood. "Ah... This is my reward if I do well, for when I finally grow into it." She nodded. "I also got you the three-quarters. It should be better suited to you." She held out another case, smaller, but equally as good a violin. "They are..." Sherlock paused, searching for the right word. "Beautiful. Thank you, Mother." She hugged him, and he hugged her back. "Oh! I almost forgot! Most of the boys share a dorm, but because you're younger, I got you your own room. It's smaller, but it should work for you."

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Sherlock and his mother spent the next 2 months moving to London and getting Sherlock's school supplies, including a trunk and a chemistry set. When he asked her, Mother said that she'd asked for express permission for him. "So you better not mess it up!" Sherlock grinned, happier alone with his mother than he had been his entire life. Combined. "Would I do something like that?"

Later, as she dropped him off at the school, Emma reminded him of every single thing she'd told him over the past two months. "Don't keep your hallmates up with your music!" Over the past two months, Sherlock had grown to love violin. He had also grown another inch and was now 4 feet 10 inches. "Also, if you need anything-," Sherlock cut her off. "Yes, I know! Ask Mrs. Hudson. She's an old friend of yours and she'd be happy to help." Mother smiled. "Exactly. Good boy. Now, I'll see you at Christmas. Mycroft may be back too, he hasn't said yet." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mother, of course he hasn't said yet! It's the first of September. Nobody's thinking about it yet. Except you!" She grinned. Again. "Please, please don't get kicked out or expelled! Yes, young man, I know they're the same thing! But seriously. If you do get yourself in trouble, I will drag you straight back to London and enroll you in public school! Behave, Sherlock Holmes! Bye! I love you! I'll see you at Christmas!"

Sherlock turned around and waved. "Goodbye, Mother! I'll see you at Christmas!" Nobody was around to see or hear him, so he even added, "I love you too!"

**A/N: Scene! Please review, I think Sherlock was a little OOC, and I want to know what you guys think! Hopefully I'll be able to update by Tuesday. Have a good weekend!**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Little, innocent Sherlock. How adorable. Too bad it won't last... maybe. Next chapter, here we go! Disclaimer: Same old, same old. I don't own Sherlock, blah blah blah. OK done, here's the chapter.**

Sherlock walked into the entrance hall, a little lost, but a little not. This school was smaller than his family's mansion, so he didn't feel dwarfed. An old man came up to him and told him to "please stay on that bench there." So Sherlock sat, his trunk and violin case right next to him. Slowly, over the course of the next hour, more boys trickled in, ages 10-17. Since he had so much time, he decided to go to his mind palace, but only out of the corner of his eye. It was a trick he'd learned last year at school,when the teachers were being boring. School... It was only now that Sherlock began to think of John, and Greg, his friends whom he'd left behind. He had joined them in the fourth grade by March, so he was technically a fifth grader. But they didn't know that he'd moved to London, and from there to a fancy boarding school. They would think he'd just left without thinking of them. Sherlock resolved to write a letter to each of them as soon as possible, explaining in as friendly a manner he was capable of, just what had happened.

Finally, all the students had arrived, and everyone was ushered into the auditeria, which was a cross between a cafeteria and an auditorium. The old man, who turned out to be the headmaster, walked up to a podium. "Hello, everyone. As many of you know, I am your headmaster. My full name is Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, however you need only call me Professor. Yes, the sir does mean I have been knighted. Welcome back, old students, and to the newcomers, welcome. We-" here he gestured to the staff "-hope to turn out fine, credible students by the end of the year. Now, you surely must want lunch (**A/N: midday meal, American, sorry**), so please, enjoy." A bunch of metal walls cranked open and the students could see a kitchen, with many chefs.

* * *

Sherlock followed the map given to him by a teacher until he reached the fifth grade dorm hallway. Most had two names marked on the door but at last he came to a door that had just one name- Sherlock Holmes. He unlocked it using his lock-picking set, just to see how easy it was-it was very easy-and opened the door. His mother was right. It was small, but it would fit him just fine. There was a bed, which was tucked between two walls, resting against a third; a space by the foot of the bed for his trunk; a medium-sized desk occupying a whole wall; a lamp on the desk; and finally, a huge window opposite the bed, on the fourth wall.

Sherlock immediately got to work putting sheets on the bed and curtains on the window. Then he decide to improve the lock on his door, so he added a deadbolt fashioned out of extra bits and pieces. Next, he opened his trunk and pulled out his chemistry set, complete with gloves and goggles, and set it on the desk, mentally declaring that his science space. After that, he opened his violin case and took out his instrument, then closed the door (which was sound-proof) and started to play Winter. He was about halfway through the song when he looked at the clock hanging above his bed and realized that it was almost dinnertime.(**Again, evening meal, sorry**) He rushed to put away his violin, then he near about ran through the door, when he remembered to deadbolt his door. He had developed it so it could be lock from the outside, but only if you knew where it was and how to do it. Finally he was done, and he went to dinner.

**A/N: Sorry for the american terms, I would love to be British. This chapter was interesting to write. I think next chapter will skip ahead to Christmas. Please review, I could always use the comments. See you next chapter!**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers! You are all fabulous, you make my day so much better. So, new chapter! By the way, I am so sorry for the wait. I just started high school, I'm taking all honors classes, including an AP class, and I have a 6 day weekend due to flooding. Disclaimer: If anybody on this site owned Sherlock, there would be a heck of a lot more shipping involved in the show.**

Sherlock waited impatiently in front of the school. It was getting cold, and he didn't have a coat. Finally, after ages, the familiar black Impala drove up. (Remember that from earlier? :)) Sherlock's mother was in the driver's seat, and she hurried to help Sherlock load his stuff in the trunk. Once they were safely in the heat of the car, she started talking. "What in the world was I thinking? Sending you off without a proper coat! I'm a terrible mother." Sherlock hastened to comfort her, and she smiled. "Only joking. I am amazing. But seriously, no coat?"

* * *

Sherlock and his mom eventually got home, to flat 34C. They again loaded Sherlock's stuff, only this time into the flat. Sherlock dragged it to his small room at the end of the hall. It didn't have much in it, only his science desk, bed, and his trunk, but it was his room, his space, and he loved it.

He headed back out to the living room, which was connected to the kitchen. His mom was in the kitchen, so he went to see what she was doing. She looked up and shooed him out of the kitchen. "Out, out! No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Because it's a surprise!" She answered his questions, then changed the subject. "Oh, Mycroft is coming. He didn't say when, though, so it could be anytime. Now go do something! I don't know, wrap presents!" Sherlock grinned. He already had his present for Mother, and it was wrapped, though he didn't tell her that. For Mycroft he had gotten a fruit cake, along with a tie that incidentally had fat men all over it. It wasn't wrapped yet, though, so he set off to find the most boring wrapping paper his mother owned. It was rainbow. She really had relaxed since her husband's death, although she would never admit it.

* * *

Emma Holmes sat in the kitchen for a while. She kept up appearances in front of Sherlock, but she really wasn't fine, not really. She needed to tell someone, had to have someone who understood, who knew. That person wasn't Sherlock. He had hated Dave after what had happened three years ago. Maybe Mycroft could help her out. He was, after all, the British Government. Emma smiled. He had achieved so much in such a short amount of time. He was only 20 years old. At that age Emma had been pregnant with him and engaged to Dave. But it hurt to think about that. After a long, and rather arduous 2 years after their engagement, they had finally gotten married. When she was twenty-two. She hadn't done a whole lot for herself, she realized. She had set herself up to fail, and yet she had succeeded, surpassed all expectations made of her. Maybe, just maybe, Sherlock could learn to do the same. Maybe he would be great one day, but for now he was an eight year old child in need of normality. When so much in one's life has gone wrong, a bit of normality can't hurt.

**A/N: And that's it for this chapter. Sorry, it's fairly short. I will try to put another up, but I also need to update my other stories. Thank you for being such patient readers. Reviews are appreciated. :)**


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